Rocking the Boat
by Ebony10
Summary: Jane finds a surprising document on Lisbon's desk that leads to major changes. A fun, fluffy fic. Jisbon.
1. Sneaking

Meant to be light-hearted and fun (perhaps even fun_ny_ at points?). Will likely have serious moments scattered here and there. Probably at least a bit OOC, but the situation ("off the wall" as Kathi-Ann described it) is taking the characters places they've not been before. O_o. (by the way, that was a bewildered face, not a creepy one)

I don't own them. Also, I will try to update as often as possible, but school is a bit insane. Just a bit of prior warning.

Chapter One: Sneaking

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Patrick Jane headed gleefully to his boss' desk, preparing to thoroughly sift through the many documents and insight-bearing objects on it. Lisbon was stuck in a meeting all morning. And he planned to take advantage of it.

As her blinds were shut, he doubted that the rest of the team even knew he was in there. He could be the Master of Stealth. The King of Quiet. The Emperor of Silence. The Czar of Inconspicuousness. The…the…

Yup. That was it. Point was: the team was clueless. Just how he liked it.

Careful to catalogue everything's place inside his mind, he moved paper after paper, hoping for a diamond in the rock. As it were.

Case file. Boring.

Formal complaint against consultant. Eh, he had hardly insulted the man. Meh. People had such thin skin nowadays…

Order form for paper clips. Seriously?

Case file.

Formal complaint.

Formal complaint.

Formal complaint.

Forma—okay. Really? Didn't people have anything better to do with their time? Jane rolled his eyes. If these people had good, semi-productive lives, they wouldn't bother filing these complaints. Of course, if that was the case it was likely that Jane never would have bothered with insulting them in the first place. So, really, he supposed these delicate situations were (logically) their own fault. Moving on…

Case file.

As a rule of thumb, Jane didn't allow the small, negative things in his 'missions' to get him down, but this was rather disappointing. Didn't Lisbon have a life outside of work? Something perhaps scandalous? He checked himself, coming back down to reality. Okay, not scandalous. This was _Lisbon_. Maybe just unexpected. Yes. Unexpected.

That was one of the things he lo—_enjoyed_ about her. Her ability to surprise him, to keep a sort of mysterious quality about her. Sure, he knew her personality and much about her life, but there were these annoying blank spaces in his mental picture of her. And Jane had _always_ hated blank spaces.

His pictures had always been the most colorful in elementary school.

Coming back to the task at hand, he glanced at his watch. He sighed and started shuffling the papers back into position. He needed to be out on the couch dozing in relative laziness by the time Lisbon returned.

Putting the last paper in place, he stood. A small corner of white on the floor near his feet caught his eye. Stooping, he picked up the paper (from yet another mundane case file). His brow furrowed. Was this on the floor when he got in or did it come from the desk?

It was rare that Patrick Jane was torn, captured with indecision.

Well, except that time when he had to shoot the sheriff to save Lisbon. And those strange urges he had at the last office Christmas party with Lisbon looking all happy and plied with that eggnog that _someone_ had spiked. Or there was that time when Lisbon had been undercover as a hot young thing (and she pulled it off better than well) who preyed on rich men. Or the trust fall. Or the time she had fallen asleep in the passenger seat of his car and the soft sound of her breathing in and out had begun to drive him crazy…

Okay, okay. The point was: he was torn. Put the paper back on the floor and hope it had been there when Lisbon had left her office or insert it into the mass of things on her desk?

Floor? He looked down.

Desk? He eyed the full surface.

Floor? Desk?

Recalling Lisbon's claim of knowing where everything was at every moment and her obsessive need for order, Jane decreed that the paper had likely been on the desk. So…desk, it was.

Now, all that was left was to strategically place it somewhere in a manner akin to Lisbon's style of "filing." Lifting a rather hefty-looking pile, he began to slide the lone sheet in. His eyes idly skimmed the words of the sheet he was about to cover. He froze.

Holy shit.

Normally, Jane was much more eloquent in his expressions. But some situations were so shocking that certain terms seemed necessary.

This was one of them.

Lisbon's desk held an information packet and a response to Lisbon's apparent letter of interest.

For artificial insemination.

Jane was pretty sure that if he were less masculine, he may have fainted from the shock. As it was, he felt the strong need for something sweet to even out his blood sugar level, to help him recover from the surprise.

He couldn't believe that Lisbon was doing something (_considering_ doing something, he amended) so life-changing and he had missed it.

Where in hell were those highly refined observational skills when it mattered?!?

Hastily, he put the paper down. He took a step away from her desk, still trying to compute this new information. He shook his head. He had to get a hold of himself. Lisbon would be returning soon.

Time to revert back to the original plan. Couch. Doze. Lazy.

He could use the time to ponder a pregnant Lisbon. That thought sent him off once more with the only applicable response:

Holy shit.


	2. Clever Little Plans

Warning: I am a Jisbon fan. If you're not into that, abandon ship *throws out lifesavers*. Again, I know it's OOC (sorry!) and I debated about posting or not. Thanks to the encouragement of Kathi-Ann (who did admit its randomness), I posted. Hopefully, it will seem more and more like the characters as I write/post. Thanks for all the reviews!!

Chapter Two: Clever Little Plans

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For once, Jane couldn't leap into action, employing one of his clever little plans.

Simply because said clever little plan did not exist. Which was extremely irritating. He had been "dozing" on the couch for about two hours now. Coincidentally, Lisbon had been back for about one hour and forty-seven minutes.

Not that he was counting or anything.

As she moved about her office (blinds now open) and the bullpen, he scrutinized her figure through half-closed eyes. She didn't appear any thicker in the middle. Her moods hadn't been any different than normal. He scanned through his memories of this morning, trying to remember if she had been drinking coffee before her meeting. Dammit, why couldn't he remember something so trivial? _He,_ Patrick Jane, _always_ cataloged those types of things. Inwardly, he grumbled to himself.

He likely couldn't remember it simply because he wanted to so badly. Kind of like watching a pot of water, waiting for it to boil. He never had liked to make pasta. Of course he was good at it, but it was so tiresome. His mother used to say he had a special kind of patience. The kind that waited for the perfect revelation, for the perfect plan and then he was gone, springing in motion. Two-speed Patrick. Intently watchful and a blur of action.

That was why boiling water (or actually, non-boiling water to be specific) was so annoying. He knew what he wanted and was forced to hold back, waiting when he was ready to go.

He was pulled from his animosity over cooking pasta when Lisbon came out of her office once more, heading to Cho with a file in her hands.

Nope. Her figure wasn't showing any signs of pregnancy. Which didn't mean much if she was in her first trimester.

It was driving him crazy.

Had she already done it? Or was she merely contemplating it as a sort of 'what if'? Had she just decided to do it and was waiting for the appointment?

Too many unanswered questions. He hated those. He should have checked the date of that letter.

He felt energy coiling inside of him, though his body remained relaxed and poised on the couch—the perfect picture of a sort of lazy insolence. Just the way he wanted it.

"Jane!"

He jumped. An action which spoke more of his agitated state than any nervous fidgeting ever could. He looked around casually, wondering if anyone had noticed. Didn't appear so. Van Pelt was engrossed in her data search (what a thrilling life she led...), Cho was practicing the art of twirling a pencil between his fingers as he intently scanned the papers in front of him (ever the diligent right hand of Lisbon), and Rigsby...well, Rigsby was working on his epic plan to remove travel size yogurts from existence in the world (his technique in this mission...eat them all; every last one). His eyes landed on the last figure.

Lisbon. She was at the entrance of her office, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. If he were anyone else (i.e. Rigsby), he'd be gulping nervously. But he was Jane. So he leapt up and meandered his way to her.

"Yes, Lisbon?"

"My office." She turned and disappeared into the room behind her. He followed her, bewildered and suspicious. Did she know that he had been going through her desk?

Maybe he should have left the paper on the floor.

Lisbon sat down at her desk and eyed him. He grinned at her disarmingly, but alas. No effect. He sat down in the chair across from her desk and made himself comfortable. He considered putting his feet on her desk, but decided that may be overkill.

He waited.

After about ninety seconds, he decided that it was too much like watching water boil. Boring.

"Much as I love your company, Lisbon, is there a reason you called me into your office? Or did you just miss me?" He beamed at her. She glowered for a moment before rolling her eyes.

"You should be so lucky," she retorted. "Yes, Jane. There is a reason. You've been…a little different this morning. Quiet. _Too_ quiet. You're making us nervous. Are you okay?"

He blinked at her. What? They had discerned that something was up? Man, he was really losing his touch.

Lisbon smiled softly. "You're not losing your touch. We're your friends. You don't have to be a mentalist to tell when a friend is acting differently."

He froze. She had a point, but…if they were friends, why hadn't she talked to him? Why hadn't _he_ been able to tell that _she_ was different?

He knew that she didn't date much. Didn't really like male attention (romantic interest) when she was on a case and they were almost always on a case so that really limited her options. He was sure that she felt her biological clock ticking and, though she was okay with not having a romantic partner, he knew she liked kids.

Oh, she hid it well. Made it seem as if her amicable attitude to kids was just a surface, normal attitude. After all, who wouldn't be nice to kids? But Jane knew. Inside, she harbored a mother bear—fiercely protective, maternal, and loyal. Her team was subject to those qualities rather often, but it was easily mistaken as stemming from her role as boss. Jane knew she had practically raised her brothers. Lisbon? Well, she wanted to be a mother.

Jane knew that. He had just never let himself really consider this moment. The moment when she would make that desire an actuality.

Silly, really. He should have known better. She was, after all, a go getter. Just look at how she'd risen in the CBI ranks. If she wanted something, she did something about it. She didn't just wait for fate to hand her it on a silver platter.

Which was good, actually. Since there was no such thing as fate.

He must have been quiet for too long because he noticed that her forehead now had that little wrinkle it got when she worried. Damn. He really needed to get on his game.

"No worries, Lisbon. I'm perfectly alright," he said soothingly, but he could tell she wasn't buying it. His next sentence flowed from his mouth as if he had always planned to say it. Good thing he had always been skilled at improvisation. "The coffee shop just prepared my tea wrong. Never a pleasant way to start the morning."

She watched him for a moment longer and he was impeccably put together under her assessing gaze. Finally, she nodded. "Okay. Well, go make your own cup of tea. You're driving us crazy."

He looked at her, noticing the way the sun glinted off her dark locks and the sparkling of her green eyes. Her pert nose and pursed lips. Her body leaning comfortably back in her chair. _He _was driving them—_her_—crazy? She had no idea…

He hopped up before he allowed himself to get distracted by staring at her. Easier and easier to do lately. Giving her a mock salute, he headed out of her office, whistling.

Friends? He grinned, slightly aware that the sight was making Rigsby suspicious. Really, the dye had washed out.

After a day or two. Jane smiled at the memory of a blue-haired Rigsby interrogating a suspect. It had totally been worth the scolding he'd received from Lisbon. Not that he really minded her scoldings. She looked so fiery when she was mad.

He shook his head, getting back to the matter at hand. So she saw them as friends.

Perfect.

Friends could drop by each other's place of residence unexpectedly. Right?

And so a clever little plan was formed.


	3. The Usual

Sorry about the lengthy delay between chapters. Kind of a transition chapter, but I hope you like it anyway. Thanks for all of the reviews!

Chapter Three: The Usual

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Jane knocked on the door to Lisbon's apartment, waiting patiently as he heard movement inside.

A minute passed and he imagined Lisbon on the other side of the door, peering warily through the peep hole.

"Yes, Lisbon, it's me. And yes, I know you're in there so you may as well open the door," he said, voice raised just enough to be heard through the wood. Metal clicked against metal as he heard her unlock the various safety mechanisms. Really? Four? How necessary was that? He allowed an indulgent smile to play on his lips as he thought about her paranoia.

He remembered the many murder cases they investigated, that his own family had been killed despite the locks on the doors and windows, and suddenly he wasn't so amused at Lisbon's security fetish. In fact, he wondered if maybe she should have more.

The door swung open in time to catch the intensity of his gaze before he slid the amiable mask back into place. Lisbon, arms crossed, looked at him in that semi-defensive way she had. When she was curious, but didn't want to open herself up to any sort of intrusion on her privacy, her person.

"Why are you at my apartment, Jane?"

He smiled innocently. He hoped.

"Why, Lisbon. Isn't it normal for a friend to stop by with a pint of ice cream every once in a while?" He asked. She groaned and rubbed her hand against her forehead, knowing that her own words had left her wide open to this sort of assault. He took advantage of her momentary distraction and slipped past her into the apartment. Feeling him brush against her, she spun around.

"What the hell?"

"Ice cream's melting," he answered and headed straight for the kitchen. Her layout was so predictable.

If he remembered correctly, his wife had craved anything sweet during her pregnancy. At least before she really started showing. Maybe Lisbon…

Of course, that would be assuming she had already done it. For some reason his mind didn't like the irreversible feel of that statement. Thinking about his boss pregnant felt so…permanent. She'd be away for at least maternity leave. They'd have another (if only temporary) Senior Agent for their team. He wouldn't be able to irritate her, coax a blush from her smooth cheeks, anticipate a sentence from her quick tongue, see her almost everyday.

Well, why not, actually? Maybe he could slowly get her used to seeing him outside of work. He could stop over and help with the baby. She was bound to get tired.

Three a.m. wake up calls were only fun the first time. And, really, not even then.

But it had been so worth it. Every second. In fact, he'd willingly stay up every night if only he could do it again.

He shook those thoughts off. It was never good to go down that lane. One can't change the past, shouldn't look back to it.

But he was finally starting to understand that a person could look forward, that he could start feeling like he had a future again. Maybe. Possibly.

As he scooped the ice cream into bowls (which he easily found since he knew Lisbon so well—despite his recent discovery, he still firmly believed that), he noticed that Lisbon hadn't followed him into the kitchen.

Probably sitting on her couch, resigned to her fate. Perhaps a little bewildered at how she had landed in such a position. Suspicious of him. You know, the usual.

He grinned. Ah, it felt good to be back in control.

He carried the bowls out and found her exactly as he had expected. Couch, resigned, bewildered, and suspicious. The usual…well, the usual _usually_ had _him_ on the couch. Not her. But after the day he'd had, he decided he shouldn't be picky. This was close enough.

He presented a bowl to her with a flourish and, rolling her eyes, she accepted it. He mentally struck another point on the scoreboard of his brain. One of these days perhaps he'd let her get one in. Just so the mental scoreboard didn't look so pitiful on her side. Yes, he could be gracious.

She started to eat and after the silence reigned for at least three minutes, he spoke. "Been craving ice cream?"

…Oooookay. Maybe not the most subtle he'd ever been. But this was admittedly an odd situation. She raised her brows at him.

"Um, not really. I mean, it's good, but it's not like I've been dying for it," she answered slowly, eyeing him warily. He tried to assume his most innocent expression. Too bad that always seemed to set her more on edge.

He nodded understandingly. She must have other cravings. Now, he was almost positive that she had gone through with it. That she was pregnant. Otherwise, why would she act so out of character? Allowing him to sit on her couch, eating ice cream with hardly a comment about his lack of respect for her privacy?

He must have been silent for too long because when he looked up from his near empty bowl, he met her assessing gaze. He smiled charmingly. "Can't keep your eyes off me, my dear?"

"Did you need something, Jane?"

The truth. Your trust, he thought immediately. Of course, he was controlled enough not to blurt that out.

He knew she was asking why he was at her apartment like this. Never before had they done anything together outside of work or work get-togethers. He shrugged.

"You must be tired, Lisbon. I should go." He stood and hastily took their bowls into the kitchen, washing them out. She stood in the doorway, confused. Once he had dried his hands on a towel, he turned and gently motioned her to the hallway that he was sure led to her room. "Get some sleep. You need your rest."

The corner of her mouth twitched, a tell that she was confused about something. "Why do I nee—"

He cut her off. "Good night, Lisbon. Sleep well."

He was out the door before she could respond. He didn't want to get into it. He should really let her tell him on her own. Yes. He nodded to himself. He'd let her make the announcement to him and he'd be happy and cheerful and supportive. The perfect friend.

She would probably tell him this week. She had probably just found out recently that the procedure had worked. Yes, that was why she hadn't told him yet. She wanted to be sure. It wasn't because she didn't trust him (he firmly believed that, deep down, she trusted him). It wasn't because she thought he was simply a co-worker. She was just being Lisbon. Being thorough.

She would tell him this week, he was sure.


	4. The Waiting Game

This chapter is dedicated to Kathi-Ann, whose questioning about this story prompted me to write the next chapter. This hasn't been re-read and it was just written so all mistakes are—obviously—my own. Not sure if I quite like this story (I suppose it's not bad, though it's definitely not my favorite), but I am going to finish it up soon. Maybe, if I'm lucky, before my birthday. But I'm not holding my breath. :D

Hope you guys enjoy!

Chapter Four: The Waiting Game

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She hadn't told him.

It had been seven days. Exactly. One whole week.

He had been patient. Waiting for her to feel ready. He was all set to be the supportive, helpful friend she needed. Who better? He would know exactly what she required. And this way, he could infiltrate more of her life. He was sure that she'd get over that silly boundary she thought she maintained between her personal life and her professional life.

Hmm…he had been sure she'd tell him that week and look where that led. He shook his head. Best not to think of that.

He looked up as Lisbon entered the bullpen, file in hand.

"Okay, guys. We have a new case. Hour away by plane or about three hours drive. I'm inclined to take the plane…" she trailed off and Jane leapt up, indignation sketched across his body.

"Of course we're not flying!" What was wrong with her?!? "What's wrong with you?"

Man, he really had to get a handle on this brain-mouth thing. Her eyebrows lifted almost comically and the rest of the team stared at him in confusion. He cleared his throat. Well, this was Lisbon's first time. Probably a lot of things she didn't know. And he didn't want to be the one to let the cat out of the bag…

This just proved that she needed him.

"Well, road trips really are quite entertaining. And I'm sure Minelli will appreciate us saving money from the budget by taking a company car," Jane reasoned, an unusual intensity behind his voice. Lisbon looked at him suspiciously.

"Well, if you feel that strongly about it, Jane, then I suppose we'll drive. We'll have more time to discuss the case that way," she added as she turned to her team.

"Van Pelt, be sure to bring a Bureau laptop so we can access the database via wi-fi during the drive. Rigsby, here are the basic details of the case. Get all the contact information for the area authorities and make plans to meet when we arrive. Come up with an ETA and relay that to them and me. Cho, find us accommodations. You all have a half hour to do so. Then head home, grab what you need, and we'll meet back here after an hour."

The team nodded and scurried to do her bidding. Jane sat back on his couch, thoughtful. He'd have to drive with her, make sure she didn't make any other silly mistakes.

"Jane, you're riding with Van Pelt and Rigsby," Lisbon cut into his thoughts as she headed for her office. He frowned momentarily and followed her, ignoring the shut door. Opening it, he entered without warning. To her credit (maybe she was just used to it or expecting it…), she didn't even react.

"Why can't I ride with you?"

"Because I'm not looking forward to a three hour drive with you like this," she responded as she rifled through papers. Jane stopped. Like what?

"With me like what, Lisbon?"

She rolled her eyes. "You know."

He didn't. He really didn't.

He watched as Lisbon picked up a cup emblazoned with the Starbucks logo, took a sip, and then set it back down. Then it hit him. "What are you drinking?"

He took another step toward her—now within reaching distance. She looked a little startled at the change in topic, but answered anyway.

"Coffee," she drew the word out slowly as if she were speaking to him in a foreign language. His eyes widened as she reached for it again and he also stretched out his arm, knocking it away just in time to stop her from drinking it.

Well, also in time to spill the contents all over her shoes and floor. She stood frozen, as if she couldn't comprehend the way he was acting. Honestly, he was feeling the same way. How could she be so careless? Drinking coffee?

"Jane," she started, her voice low and even—he knew he was in trouble then—as she took a deep breath. "You need to get out of my office. Now."

He smiled disarmingly. They really needed to have a talk soon. About what she could and could not do in her situation. Obviously her doctor wasn't fulfilling his job correctly.

At the glint in her eyes, he stepped back warily. Maybe now wasn't the best time for that talk.

Her right brow began to twitch.

Yup. Definitely not the right time.

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He climbed out of the car, followed by a fuming Lisbon.

"And you wondered why I wanted Cho to drive with me," Lisbon muttered. Jane was vaguely affronted, though his mind was occupied with other, more pleasant things.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Lisbon."

They walked toward the cluster of trees, where they were sure to find the team and the body of their latest victim.

"You're acting strange, Jane. Even for you."

He dragged himself out of a lovely mental image of Lisbon in a hammock with an infant, the gentle breeze softly moving her dark hair. The child cuddling to her. His mind had been occupied with these thoughts ever since Lisbon had forbid him to speak in the car—about a half hour before they had reached their destination. Of course, the silence only lasted for about fifteen minutes. But Jane was good at multi-tasking. He could, quite easily, conjure these lovely images and banter with Lisbon at the same time.

He was surprised that he had accepted this so easily, so quickly. It didn't hurt to think of another child (other than his daughter), to be excited for another one. Not the way he thought it would. And it was nice to have something to look forward to besides the next thrill of irritating Lisbon.

He was careful to ignore the tight, clenching of his muscles every time he thought about the parentage of the upcoming child. The father. Unknown. Someone else. Someone _not_ him. He almost tripped over his feet at that thought.

Stupid. He didn't have feelings like that for Lisbon. Perfectly platonic. Friends. Co-workers.

Tentatively, he allowed himself to consider if the situation was different. If Lisbon's child had a father who wasn't unknown. Some man that Lisbon introduced to them over drinks one night. He shuddered, feeling rather horrified.

Okay, maybe not _perfectly_ platonic. He glanced to the object of his thoughts, who happened to be looking at him strangely. What…

Oh, yes. Her comment. "My dear Lisbon, I am acting just as I always do. Normal."

She scoffed. "Yeah, right. Because it's _normal_ to adjust my seatbelt so it 'lies more comfortably across my waist.' And it's _normal_ to ply me with fruits, veggies, and milk every hour or so. Normal to offer a foot massage? To quiz me on my favorite names for boys or girls? To ask if I've ever thought of giving up my apartment? To continue to recommend 'lovely neighborhoods with houses that had spacious yards.' Really, Jane. When we leave here and get to the motel, we are having a serious talk and you are going to tell me what's up."

She stormed ahead. He blinked after her. Maybe she was on to him. Maybe she knew that he knew that she knew that…wait, maybe that was one too many. Let's try this again. She knew that he knew that…

Ah, hell. Something like that.

He shrugged and traced Lisbon's steps. He supposed the waiting thing wasn't working. He'd come clean tonight. Then they could get on with the business of picking out colors for the nursery.

It never once occurred to him that he _wouldn't_ be involved in such an act.

And he had always thought that Landon would be a fine name for a little boy.


	5. Revelations

Wow, okay. Super delayed chapter. I fail at updating. : ( Thanks, Kathi-Ann, for your very gentle prodding that causes me enough guilt to force me to write. I'm really, really going to try to finish this story before I leave for Japan next Friday. Promise. Thanks for sticking with it and reviewing! Should only be a bit more after this chapter. : )

Written and posted immediately so please let me know of any mistakes. Thanks!

Chapter 5: Revelations

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It had been a long day and Jane knew that Lisbon was tired. And cranky.

He chalked it up as another point towards supporting his obviously correct conclusion that his boss was pregnant.

Mood swings.

Not that he'd _ever_ say that aloud. At least not on purpose. And hopefully only somewhere that allowed him a swift and easy escape. After all, he didn't have a death wish.

Well, not anymore at least. He didn't let his mind dwell on those dark days of his past (and even more recently, when he'd been willing to sacrifice his life for a link to Red John). Instead he watched as Lisbon unbuckled her belt and climbed out of the SUV. At least they had wrapped the case up in a single day. Of course, if they could simply act on his hunches without basis or evidence then it would have been closed even sooner.

But alas, they couldn't. Pity.

As it was, they'd have to spend the night here. It was too late to drive all the way back to Sacramento tonight even if they were done with the case. The rest of the team had already trudged to their respective rooms—Rigsby and Cho sharing. Lisbon was due to share with Van Pelt and Jane slotted to have his own. He'd like to tell himself it was courtesy and respect that drove them to treat him to a single room, but he knew them far too well for that.

They simply didn't want to deal with having their emotions and personalities on display. And it could also be the fact that Jane never slept. Which led to some pretty interesting pranks…Jane smirked at the image of Rigsby with painted fingernails and Cho with barrettes miraculously staying in his hair…ah, the joys of heavy sleepers and digital cameras…

Back to the matter at hand.

He suspected that Lisbon would want to postpone their 'talk.' He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed. He really just wanted it all in the open. Unbelievably, he was so ready to have a baby in his life again. And the fact that it would be Teresa Lisbon's child made the situation irresistible. Said child would need some sort of father figure. He nearly snorted aloud in derision at the thought that Lisbon would try her hardest to be both parents to one child.

She definitely had a complex. He had never seen anyone work so hard in his entire life. And the things she did only seemed to heighten her work load.

Surely this was yet more proof that she needed him.

Absently, he took Lisbon's elbow to guider her up the steps, missing her sharp look because he was so immersed in his thoughts.

It was only because of his years on the road in front of an audience that his eyes didn't widen and he didn't freeze in his tracks at his next revelation.

He wanted Lisbon to need him. Because, in some weird way, he needed her.

He had vowed never to need anyone again. It would simply complicate matters. He had one objective: kill Red John. He couldn't be hindered by attachments. He couldn't feel that intense loss of having the centers of his universe ripped away. Not again.

Trust Lisbon to be the one to upset all of his carefully planned intentions.

Now he found that his objective had blurred. Yes, he wanted justice. He wanted vengeance.

But he found that, even more, he wanted to be a part of Lisbon's life. He wanted her to be a part of his. In any way possible. He wanted to see the sparkling green eyes of a child looking at him with a stubborn set jaw (a miniature of the one he saw all the time at work).

His mind working overtime, he didn't even notice when Lisbon steered them in the direction of his room until they stopped in front of a door. He looked to the number and then quickly down at the small, dark-haired woman next to him, a question in his eyes.

She sighed in exasperation. "I want to know what's going on with you."

He almost laughed. About a week ago, those had been his own sentiments. Interesting how the tides had turned. He opened his mouth, but she held a hand up to silence him.

"I think this conversation may be better inside. Somewhere I can sit down while you explain yourself."

He nodded. She looked dead on her feet and he didn't want over-exertion to compromise her physical condition. Or the baby's. Hastily, he unlocked the door and ushered her directly to a chair.

"Or maybe you'd like to lie down on the bed?"

He turned around to shut the door and when she didn't answer, he looked over to meet her bewildered gaze. He was confused for a moment and then realized how off-the-wall his question had been. It was very out of character, considering the norms that their relationship held to. She leaned forward and he tensed slightly, anticipation filling him at the thought of finally having her secret out in the open.

"Okay. Out with it. Are you dying? Trying to gain some extra merit before you pass over?"

Um. Okay. Not what he had been going for.

Interesting that her reaction to him being solicitous was to think of something so dire. He wondered what that said about her, about her past. Well, he'd have to ponder that some other time.

Right now he had bigger fish to fry. Figuratively, of course.

"I'm fit as a fiddle, my dear Lisbon." He beamed at her, happy to allay her fears. If anything, she seemed even more worried.

Huh.

"So what is it? Are you buttering me up to tell me something bad?"

She rushed on before he could even answer. "What did you do? Are you leaving the team?"

"Calm down, woman! You're letting your imagination run away with you. None of the above," he answered, slightly bewildered at how the situation had gotten rather out of hand. Him leaving the team??

She frowned at him. "Then what the hell is going on?"

He bristled. She was annoyed at him? _She_ was the one who had been keeping secrets from her team, from her friends. From him. The nerve.

"Lisbon," he spoke softly and firmly. No need to cause her stress. He needed to keep the situation calm and to reassure her of his help in the months to come. He infused his next words with significance. "I _know_."

Her scowl disappeared. Only to be replaced by confusion. There was a moment of silence.

Jane graciously allowed the silence to fill the room. After all, he was sure that she needed some time to take this in. Not every day your deep secrets are revealed.

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Repeat cycle. He was about to take pity on her and continue with some assurance of comfort, but she finally spoke.

"You know what, Jane?"

Hmm. She seemed truly confused if her voice was anything to go by. Was she so secure in her secret that she never even suspected that he could find out? He sighed.

"Lisbon, I know that you're pregnant."

Silence again.

But not for long. Later, Jane would wonder if the hotel received any complaints about noise due to the commotion from his room.

"WHAT?!?"


	6. Death by Minifridge

Lol, again this chapter is due mostly to Kathi-Ann, but also to all of you who asked for it before my departure. This is basically the end. More serious than the rest of the chapters. There will be one last chapter (a sort of epilogue) for those Jisbon fans who have so patiently continued to read this. :D Thanks to everyone who reviewed!! Just wrote it so if there are any mistakes, please share.

Oh, and the italicized words are a flashback.

Chapter Six: Death by Mini-fridge

***************************************************

Jane opened his eyes and allowed his gaze to focus. The first thing that came into view was Lisbon's glowering face. Huh. Not quite how his fantasies of this had ever played out.

Uhhh…not that he had ever fantasized about Lisbon. Nope. Never.

Looking away from her, he took in his surroundings. Seemed to be a hospital room. He sniffed. Yup, definitely a hospital. And _he _was the one in the bed, indisposed. What….?

Oh, yeah. He hummed low in his throat. It was all coming back to him now…

_The outrage on her face was the first warning. Maybe his supposition wasn't __**entirely**__ accurate…_

_She stood, indignation and no small amount of anger tightening her stance. He eyed her carefully. She wouldn't do him bodily harm._

_Right?_

"_Uh, Lisbon?"_

_She took a step forward. "All week you've been acting like this because you thought I was __**pregnant**__?"_

"_Well, when you say it in that tone, you make it sound like an asinine conclusion so I'm not quite sure I want to admit to it," he said, feeling disconcerted. He hated feeling disconcerted. That was one of the many reasons he had become what he was, one of the many reasons he did what he did. __**He**__ disconcerted __**others**__. That was just the way things were._

"_What the hell, Jane? If you wondered, why didn't you just ask?!" Her voice was rising slightly. Not enough to bother the neighbors (even irate, Lisbon was ever the conscientious citizen), but notably higher than her norm._

_He pondered her question. Now that she mentioned it, why __**hadn't**__ he just asked._

_Ah, yes. He wanted her to come to him._

_Which of course she hadn't._

_Because apparently she wasn't pregnant._

_He refocused on her as she took a step forward. He was already flustered and she looked strangely menacing for how short she was. Nervously, he stepped backward, not noticing the chair behind him._

_Things seemed to happen in slow motion. He stumbled over the chair and was on a straight path toward the insanely large television on the stand across from the bed. Trying to catch his balance, he lurched to the side. He did __**not**__ want to become physically acquainted with a television that looked as if it could eat him for breakfast._

_Unfortunately his lurching only served to have his feet trip over his single overnight bag. Stupid really…he shouldn't pack one. He didn't wear pajamas because he didn't sleep. If it weren't for the fact that his vanity wanted a crisp, fresh suit every day then he would only bring a toothbrush._

_His thoughts seemed to come in rapid procession as gravity worked its magic, bringing his head ever closer to the edge of the mini-fridge:_

_He shouldn't have packed the suit. He didn't even really like the blue and grey pinstriped one that much…damn suit…_

_He couldn't believe he had been wrong about Lisbon. Speaking of Lisbon, why wasn't she saving his ass the way she normally did??_

_The last thing he remembered thinking before entering blackness:_

_He had always thought mini-fridges were some sort of devious contraptions invented to prey on unsuspecting hotel-room renters. He would have to figure out the manufacturer of this particular one and write them a strongly worded letter about how the corners of their mini-fridges were too dangerous. Perhaps deadly…_

Hmm, Jane idly wondered how he had had the time to think all of that in less than a minute. He shrugged. Someone cleared their throat and he looked back to Lisbon, the only other inhabitant of his hospital room. Ah, yes. Time to pay the pied piper.

What a weird saying…

"Jane," she began tiredly, though still looking at him with animosity. "Only you could end up with a concussion from a perfectly innocent talk."

He huffed. "Well, Lisbon, if you hadn't been advancing on me in a murderous frenzy, then I wouldn't have fallen and become concussed by the deviant mini-fridge."

She crossed her arms. "Murderous frenzy? I think the blow to your head did more damage than the doctors thought."

"You were clearly upset," Jane pointed out.

"Uh, Jane? If you recall, you had just accused me of being pregnant. Randomly. Out of the blue," she added. "I think you'd be a little irritated if I mentioned how out of shape you were getting and asking you if it was because you just turned forty."

Instinctively, his hand went to his abdomen. Out of shape? What? He surreptitiously smoothed said hand along his stomach. No way. He kept himself relatively in shape so he'd still look great in his sui—oh. Lisbon was trying to create an analogy between situations.

"Well, put that way I can see that you may be a little miffed." He let out a sigh as reality hit. Lisbon was not pregnant. No little miniature Lisbon. All of his daydreams and mental images disappeared with a poof. Little Landon was no more…it was kind of sad, actually. Time to come completely clean so Lisbon didn't sign him up for a psyche eval. "I saw a paper on your desk about artificial insemination and figured you had had the procedure done. You were acting strange. Letting me invade your home with ice cream. Allowing me to choose a car trip over a flight. You _never _relinquish control like that."

She laughed. "What? I was only acting like that because I thought something was wrong with you. That you were having a rough patch sleeping or something."

Well…that was a bit humorous. The side of his mouth quirked up. "And the paper?"

She sobered. "Yes, I had made some inquiries."

She looked away from him. "I'm not getting any younger, Jane. And someday I'd like children. I just thought…maybe…"

She sighed as he was uncharacteristically silent (something that had been happening quite a bit in the last week or so), then continued. "In the end, I decided to give myself a chance for the whole thing. Maybe someday there will be that special someone and we'll have a family together. As a team. Not just me. I _do _want kids, but it just seems like I've always done everything alone. Raised my brothers. Went through college. Got a job as a cop. Recruited by the Bureau and working my way up."

She finally glanced at him and he was humbled by the trust she showed in sharing this with him. "I want to do this with someone. I don't want to do it alone. I will if I have to. If it's really and truly getting too late, but I'm going to give myself a chance. A few more years."

He gazed at her. He could almost feel her desire to be part of something special. Wait…he could feel it. He had once. He had once had a wife and together they had created a beautiful thing: a child. Together, the three of them had been something special before it was torn away from him.

He found that he wanted to feel that again. Specifically, with the woman who had just bared herself to him so courageously. Panic gripped him. But not yet. He just…he couldn't.

Lisbon, sensing his discomfort, cleared her throat once more and changed the subject. He saw the telltale glint in her eyes and was immediately on guard, the soft and warm feeling between them falling away to a more normal situation. From the look on her face, there would either be bantering or ass-kicking. He could only hope that the fact that he had already been taken out by a mini-fridge would deter her from the latter.

"I was sure that paper was buried underneath quite the pile of case files. Mind sharing how you happened upon that?"

Uh oh.


	7. Bare Feet and Fetishes

I'm baaaaaaaack! (just so we're clear: in a triumphant, happy tone-**not** a _The Shining_ kind of tone)

I dedicate this chapter to Divinia for being such an awesome fanfic friend! Sorry about the long wait. This last chapter is for Jisbon fans so if you're not into that, please leave it at chapter 6. For the rest of you, Jisbon away! :D It's rather long—don't know how it got so out of hand, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Just wrote it and posted so if there are mistakes let me know!

Also, I'm thinking of doing an off-shoot from this fic about Rigsby's blue hair...Secondly, I don't care what Simon Baker says. In my fics, he will have blue eyes. Because I swear he does. So there.

Chapter Seven: Bare Feet and Fetishes

**************************************

Life had pretty much gone back to normal after Jane's head healed.

Well, if you could count random fantasies about little boys bounding around the office with Lisbon's green eyes as normal.

And for some reason whenever Jane happened to get some shut eye, he was inundated with dreams of a heavily pregnant Lisbon lounging around a house, eating ice cream at a kitchen table, smiling softly at him.

Barefoot.

He had never thought of himself as a foot man. Actually, they usually kind of weirded him out. But after these dreams he found himself gazing at Lisbon's petite feet, imagining them bare. It was driving him crazy.

But he hadn't had a nightmare in a long time. Actually, maybe since his run in with that damn mini-fridge.

He took a moment to curse said mini-fridge in his mind.

"Jane?"

He shook his head, letting his thoughts of the devious contraption leave his mind. He looked up into the face of his boss. "Yes, Lisbon?"

"Doing okay? You looked pretty intense there for a moment." Her eyes were caring and for a moment he flashed back to the loving face from his dreams.

Intense? She had _no_ idea.

"I'm perfectly fine, Lisbon." He smiled at her, all charm. One look to her face and he wondered why it was that the one woman whose opinion meant the world to him was also the one woman he couldn't quite fool. Oh, she let him slip by with a lot and he did pull the hood over her eyes rather often during cases, but emotionally she always knew when something was up.

She just wasn't quite astute enough to realize it concerned her.

Not that he would ever tell her she wasn't astute. Not to her face.

He valued each and every one of his limbs...

...

...and he had never quite forgotten the rumors about George from filing. The one who had pissed Lisbon off years ago. The one who was now in a wheelchair for life. Jane knew it was silly. _Of course_ Lisbon never would have maimed him. But still...the little voice inside that just loved to be snarky and contrary just to spite his rational side parried back with the fact that just because she hadn't caused George irreparable damage didn't mean she wasn't still very capable of such an act.

As he was reminiscing about George, Lisbon sighed. Clearly she was letting him off the hook. Jane wasn't sure if he was relieved or slightly disappointed. "Okay. Try to get home early tonight. I think you need the rest."

She turned and left. Jane gazed after her, his eyes focused on her small feet and the clicking rhythm that accompanied them.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

He couldn't help it. Really, he couldn't.

His brain was already seeing her barefoot. He mentally chastised himself.

At this rate, he'd never get that fantasy out of his head and it would turn into a fetish. And Patrick Jane was too sophisticated and worldly to have a foot fetish. Admittedly, it would be an exclusive foot fetish. Specifically, a Teresa Lisbon foot fetish. But a fetish nonetheless. And that meant a vulnerability.

And that wasn't right. Jane was ever guarded. Nothing got by him. Suddenly, he remembered the week he falsely thought she was pregnant and amended his mental proclamation. _Almost_ nothing. He paused. Nah. He figured as that was just one time, he would not count it. _Nothing_ got by him.

He was the Duke of Defense. A Golden Goalie. Uh-huh. Yup. Nothing was getting in—no practical joke. No secrets. Nothing. He was the Prince of Perimeters, the—

A deafening blow-horn went off in the bullpen and Jane jumped violently, unceremoniously falling from couch to floor in a surprisingly ungraceful heap. His head popped up and he heard a snicker from Rigsby's desk followed by the grouchy grumbling of units nearby who had also been startled.

Van Pelt, having not stirred from her typing, rolled her eyes. Jane liked to think that Rigsby had warned her (thus her lack of reaction to such an uncharacteristic—and uncharacteristically loud—sound), but he rather suspected that Van Pelt was simply used to the antics of her fellow teammates.

Cho looked to Rigsby. He spoke with absolutely no inflection. "Good one."

Jane turned toward Lisbon's office, expecting to see her scowling face ready to scold both he and Rigsby for disturbing the peace in the workplace, not to mention the time that this ongoing practical joke feud took from their work. Well, Rigsby's work.

Instead, he was confronted with a smirking Lisbon snapping photos with a hand-held digital camera. Probably one snagged from the forensics unit—they liked to keep the small ones around. Just in case. Jane had always wondered what that meant. Just in case of what?

Now he had his answer. Apparently just in case he was ever sprawled on the floor in the most unappealing way with a startled deer in headlights look. Yes, indeed. It was reassuring to know that CBI agents believed in being prepared for _any_ occurrence.

He sighed. It was going to take a lot of manipulation and sweet talking to get that camera. Or his lock-picking set.

Normally he wouldn't mind a stray photo of him, but this was serious business.

He hadn't been wearing his vest with his suit. It was laying across the chair at his dusty desk.

How could he have a picture circulating with him in a three-piece suit that was missing one of its three pieces? It was unseemly.

Sighing and climbing back onto the couch, he resigned himself to an hour of planning followed by some strategic maneuvering. Damn. It would waste precious napping time...

And with his dreams these days, that time was certainly worth every second.

************************************************

Jane swiped his hands across his trousers after knocking. It wasn't a nervous gesture. No. Not at all. It had been an...itch. Yes. An itch. On his hand. Thus the trouser wiping. He let his contrary inner voice glare at his rationalizing inner voice for its wimpy argument, wishing his thoughts would sound a bit more stable and less like a jackrabbit on speed. Or a four year old.

Actually, he thought it would probably be better if he dropped the whole 'different inner selves' thing all together. It could only end in tears...

The door in front of him opened and he cleared his throat, getting ready to make his announcement.

He promptly choked on nothing.

As he was coughing so hard that he thought he might lose a lung (he wondered how long it would take to receive a lung from a donor and how much time it took to recover from a transplant), Lisbon ushered him in, looking alarmed.

"Shit. Jane, are you okay?"

So much for the masculine approach.

He nodded and Lisbon pushed him towards her living room area. As the coughing was dying down, Lisbon shoved him down on the couch. "I'm going to go get some water. Be right back."

She turned to leave and Jane felt some of his courage draining away. Any sort of tickle in his throat disappeared as he reached out to grab her wrist and pull her gently to the couch next to him.

Well, at least that was what was supposed to happen. That's how it worked in the movies. And TV. And novels.

Damn fictional accounts. So much for smooth, romantic and debonair.

Funny how he felt so clumsy lately around Lisbon.

His 'gentle' tug on her wrist startled Lisbon and she lost her balance, falling towards him. In a vain attempt to stop from tumbling backwards onto Jane's lap, she twisted her body in an effort to regain her balance. The effort was futile. Now she was falling face first into Jane, knocking him over on her own couch.

It was rather a whirlwind of action and as she hit Jane's chest, she squeezed her eyes shut and felt the air whoosh out of her lungs. The air stilled and Jane could tell that Lisbon sensed the worst was over. Shaking her head and taking a gasp of air, she opened her eyes to survey her position. Jane watched her expressive green eyes as she locked on to his blue. He swallowed audibly.

All he could think of was how much better this felt than waking up from holding her. She felt so small against his body. One of his hands landed on her small waist and the other reached up to her hair. "You okay?"

She froze under his touch before nodding frantically and starting to scramble up. For a moment, he didn't move the hand that was cementing her to him. She glanced at him quizzically and he forced his arm to move.

He also sat up and scooted on the couch as she rearranged herself in a seated position next to him. He saw her shift to stand again and reached out, grasping her hand. "Don't."

"Um, Jane?" Lisbon looked to his hand, clasped around hers, before looking up to him. She seemed confused. Jane wasn't sure that was a good sign.

Someone needed to write manuals for these situations. An easy to find manual. Something with a title like _What to expect when asking one to expect_ or _So you wanna knock up your soon-to-be (hopefully) girlfriend_ or even _You've decided to man up and confess to your boss, but don't know how to broach the topic and segue from that to her having your baby_. Yes, that last one sounded specific enough. Books were too vague now. That's how they made money. You had to buy tons of them and piece together the information you needed.

Money grubbing bastards. Jane wondered if perhaps he should publish such a book...

Well, he supposed it depended on tonight's outcome. Hmm. He could always go with _10 steps to cope with having your heart ripped out...again. _He shook that unpleasant thought away. No. It would go well. It had to. Lisbon had infiltrated his dreams so much that he wasn't sure he could handle it if she wasn't similarly ensconced in his life.

She cleared her throat (a pointed, graceful sound unlike his near-death experience from earlier) and he focused on her once more. She was sitting patiently, looking to him. Oh, right. He had captured her hand, preventing her from leaving. Now he just had to say what he came here to say.

"You should get pregnant."

Her eyes widened and Jane mentally groaned. Nice. Suave. He wondered why he seemed to have lost his ability to smooth talk in the last couple of months. Well, to be fair, the ability only seemed to desert him around Lisbon. He had never been that disconcerted around his wife. Strangely, that thought didn't upset him like it would have even three months earlier.

"Jane, is that your way of saying that you don't think I'll be finding someone to do it the old-fashioned way?" Lisbon's voice seemed steady, but Jane knew her well enough to know that there was an almost imperceptible tremble of hurt beneath her words. Shit! That's not what he meant at all. Exactly the opposite, actually. He went to respond, but she beat him to it. "You think I should do artificial insemination?"

"No way!" he burst out, eyes wide. This was not going according to plan. Maybe it was better if he didn't write a guidebook...

Now she looked confused. She tried to tug her hand from his, but he stubbornly refused to let go. "I don't know why this would surprise you, but I don't understand what you're getting at."

Now he rolled his eyes, suddenly feeling as if she should know by now. Really, she couldn't be that clueless. He studied her face.

Could she?

Yup, that was pure confusion. She really had no idea where he was going. He sighed.

"I think you'd look marvelous pregnant, my dear," he paused, wondering if he should push his luck.

Her forehead wrinkled, waiting for him to continue.

"And barefoot," he added. Seeing a scowl on the horizon, he hurried forward. "But artificial insemination is not the way to go. And I definitely think you can find a life partner to achieve your goal. Actually, I think you already have."

He paused significantly, waiting for the light to dawn.

Silence.

When the silence stretched to ninety seconds, he figured the bulb was burnt out and he would have to help the dawning light along.

"Me, Lisbon. I'm talking about me." He squeezed her hand gently and watched as she opened her mouth and then shut it again, searching for the right words.

He only hoped these words were some form of acceptance rather rejection.

"Did I hear you right, Jane? Did you just say, in a roundabout way, that you want to father my child?"

He frowned. It wasn't roundabout. He had been very direct. "Yes, although I would argue about the roundabout clause. I was very clear."

She snorted and he wondered how even such an unladylike action could be so attractive on her. "Yeah, right."

Jane bristled, annoyed that they weren't dealing with the matter at hand. "Forget about that. What say you?"

She smiled a bit—he assumed because of the expression he had used. So few people used such wonderful phrases anymore. Pity, really. He had always liked them and they sounded so appropriate coming from a person wearing three piece suits.

"Jane, I—"

She was interrupted by her cell phone ringing. He growled internally. Did karma have something against him? Really?

Not that he believed in karma or anything. But if he did, he would be sure that there was some sort of karmic retribution breathing down his neck. Maybe dying Rigsby's blue hair _had_ been a bit over the top.

He thought about it for a moment.

Nah.

Lisbon shot him an apologetic look as she reached for her phone, pulling her hand firmly out of Jane's. Jane caught a glance of the caller id as she flipped it open. Cho.

Listening for a second, he discerned that the call was not about a case. Not too important at all. Cho had left a file on his desk that Lisbon needed and he wasn't going to be in the next day. Something like that. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

Jane rolled his eyes and decided that his patience was gone.

He snatched the phone from Lisbon's hand. "She's busy. She'll find the file tomorrow. Good night, Cho."

He hung up without waiting for an answer. Incredulously, Lisbon gaped at him.

"What the hell, Jane?" Her brows drew together prettily. "First, don't ever interfere with my phone calls. Second, that sounded way too incriminating. Third—eek!"

Jane smirked. She was cute when she squeaked. Which wasn't often. In fact, that had been the only time he had heard it. He had cut her off by pulling her onto his lap and wrapping his arms around her. "Lisbon. You were about to answer my question."

She fell still at his prompting. "Jane, I can understand that you miss being a father. But there's adoption. Foster care. I don't think it'd be good for our professional relationship to have a baby together simply because we want to parents."

If Jane were a balloon, he'd be deflating. She still didn't get it. "Lisbon...Teresa, I loved being a father. But you don't understand. I don't just want to be a father. I specifically want to be a father to your child."

"It's sweet that you want to be there for me. I know you meant your promise. You're a great friend," she paused for a short breath in between bunched together sentences.

"Teresa, this isn't about that promise. This is about me. I know I'm selfish. Can't seem to help it no matter how much I try, but I want you. Not as a friend. Not as a boss or even a colleague." He pulled back and looked into her eyes, trying to convey his sincerity. He had practiced that look so often as a fraud, but he hoped that what came through now was sincere sincerity rather than an act. He wondered if she would even be able to tell the difference. He wondered if _he_ could. "I want us to be a family. And then I want us to add onto our family."

She looked shock. He beamed. Maybe she was finally beginning to understand. He looked more closely at her. Was she breathing?

"Um, Teresa? Lisbon?"

He shook her slightly. She blinked up at him. "Did you just propose?"

He paused, testing his feelings carefully—just one more time. Just to be sure.

Yup. No panic. Just anticipation.

"Yes. I think I did."

"Oh."

"Um, I'm pretty sure you're supposed to say something else, Lisbon."

"Oh."

"That's what I'm talking about. Your response needs to expand to include something besides 'oh.'"

"Um..."

"Just say yes. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay you'll marry me? Or okay you'll say yes?"

"Aren't they the same thing?"

Jane paused. Huh. "Guess they are, aren't they?"

She suddenly giggled. He grinned. He did have to admit that the whole situation was a little surreal. He laughed. But she was marrying him.

Little Landon was back in the game plan! Boo-yah!

He spent the next five minutes trying to explain why he had just pumped a fist into the air triumphantly. Best to keep the Landon Mission on the downlow for now. He would do this one play at a time.

He wondered if there were a book he could buy..._Life: the football game of love_.

He wondered if he could write such a thing. Eh, he didn't play much football. It'd probably flop. Maybe...

His thoughts scattered as he felt Lisbon's warm breath against his mouth, followed by a soft, sensuous pressure.

He found that within five minutes all he could think of was Lisbon's bare feet. And maybe a little baring of other body parts...

He was pretty sure he had a Lisbon fetish.

He hoped there wasn't a cure.


End file.
